A little here, a little there, a diamond in the rough cut. This is the story of your strife. Five sand dunes traversed and no sign of reprieve. Twelve monsoons of thirst and no hallucination of relief. Eight run-around, turn-around, laps around the same old drawing board. Whose frames are splintering to the far reaches of the mother land? A sunny, Sunday afternoon, your head nestled in the crescent of my well-worn alternate realities, you’ll have found your home. Thrive without inhibitions, unravel into monitored insanity. There was never a genius without a tincture of madness. You’re a genius for appreciating me.
Now back to your regularly scheduled blog post. I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, “I’m not sayin, I’m just sayin,” in the last week. If you haven’t then think back to the last time someone wanted to be frank or convey a subjective opinion as an objective observation about the collision between idealism and realism. For example, “She really should’ve dumped his punk ass five years ago–I’m not sayin, I’m just sayin.”
“If we want to maximize our talent resource pool, we must make our artists feel secure and confident that we’re going to keep our word and pay them five percent more–I’m not sayin, I’m just sayin.”
“The reason they beat us is because our secondary sucks lemons and our kicker can’t hit a 30+ yarder to save his frickin dog’s life–I’m not sayin, I’m just sayin.”
“You know, sweetie, if you didn’t tuck your shirt in, you wouldn’t look so…round down there–I’m not sayin, I’m just sayin.”
“Is it not possible that Rome fell for reasons other than what we learn in text books? I’m not sayin, I’m just sayin.“